


Shameless

by vlbuehle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF!Tony, I Don't Even Know, Loss of Virginity, M/M, although tony's worse, and less about tiberius stone, and my sense of shame, because he'll make you regret it, except that he's a douchebag, i know almost nothing about the comics, the kink meme is doing terrible things to my brain, you do not fuck with Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlbuehle/pseuds/vlbuehle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You just know there are like dozens of sex tapes of Tony circulating the internet. Steve finds one (while looking for something completely different) and is simultaneously mortified and unexpectedly turned on. </p><p>Tony catches him watching it, and is very amused (and not at all embarrassed, naturally). Sex follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shameless

**Author's Note:**

> The Avengers' Kink Meme is doing terrible, terrible things to me. This is very much AU; enjoy!

Steve sits down at the ridiculously huge desk Tony gave him and flexes his fingers before he eyes the keyboard warily. Tony set up all the Avengers with their own floors in Stark Tower, and he furnished each floor. Tony can be ridiculously generous when he wants to be, even if he does insist on hiding it behind sarcasm. Of course, his idea of reasonable furnishings included state of the art equipment... _Tony's_ definition of state of the art, which means it's probably at least five years out from anything most people have at home. At least he relented on the holographic keyboard when Steve cautiously asked if he could have a physical one; he'd used typewriters back in the day for his reports, or bereavement letters back home, and the feel of the keys is comforting even if they've changed just enough to throw him off a bit. Still, thanks to Tony's remarkably patient tutelage, he's learned the basics of modern tech. He's also fallen in love with the Internet and the wealth of free information it offers on everything he'd ever heard of and even more he hasn't

He opens his internet browser, then hesitates again, fingers hovering over the keys as the familiar Google logo pops up on his screen. He's not just wandering around today, isn't even exploring more of the history he slept through. He has a goal, set off by Clint's laughing comment about how wrecked Tony looked doing the "walk of shame"–he had to Google that one too–and the blond ‘bodybuilder' Clint asserts he'd left the Fury-mandated society gala with last night.

Steve always knew he wasn't normal. He's as quick to admire a warm smile on a fella as he is on a lady, and a fine male form makes his blood heat as much as a gorgeous dame. During the War, it hadn't seemed such a big deal. Men far from home and their girls, who knew they could die the next day, weren't necessarily as picky or as careful as they'd be at home, where looking at another guy the wrong way could land you in jail or worse. Steve hadn't gone after anyone himself, but he and Bucky had traded handjobs a couple of times, and he'd carefully turned a blind eye to what his men got up to. It was wartime, and he wasn't gonna turn them in for having some fun, but that wasn't a risk he'd taken. He'd lived and breathed the war, and being booted out on an undesirable discharge...no, it hadn't been worth the risk, so he'd carried a torch for Peggy, with her flashing dark eyes and unwavering courage.

Then his world ended in dark water and ice, and he woke up in a world where most people didn't seem to much care who dated whom. A world where he's normal, where there's a word for guys like him: bisexual, attracted to both men and women. Bruce explained it all, with a diagram that showed Steve came down clearly in the middle, and studies about how a lot of people were in the middle just like him. There's a lot of stuff he doesn't much care for about 2012, but the freedom to love whoever he wants regardless of their sex...that makes up for an awful lot of it.

There are still haters, of course, and only now can he be openly bisexual without getting kicked out of the Army. It might be a bit easier to find a pretty dame and date her–but he promised himself not to take the easy road, and he's lost too much to really care what these fickle people think. As for the army...he's done his duty, served his time and now he's through. He's an Avenger, and as far as he can tell, nobody in his team gives a damn who he's seeing.

He knows who he wants, he's known since the faceplate of that gorgeous suit came up. Granted, he also wanted to punch Tony out, but that's apparently pretty normal for anyone who first meets Tony. Lust mingled with affection as he got to know the man under the arrogant mask of billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and somewhere along the way he slid into what he figured was unrequited love. Tony was with Pepper, and Steve's not the kind of guy to break up a relationship to give himself a chance, even if part of him desperately wanted to. Even after Pepper and Tony split up, he figured he didn't have a chance, not when Tony hit party after party with ever more gorgeous dames on his arm. Steve's not willing to risk losing his best friend, so he's watched and done his best to curb Tony's more openly self-destructive moves.

But if Tony's stepping out with men too...that's a whole new ballgame as far as Steve's concerned. He's done with backing off on what he desperately wants, and Tony's worth the risk if he's got any kind of real chance with the other man. Still, he knows better than to trust Clint; the archer's sense of humor is even quirker than Tony's, as proven by the porn links he keeps sending Steve in emails marked "Avengers Urgent!" because he _knows_ Steve will open the damn things with those titles. Clint is not above claiming Tony sleeps with guys to get a rise out of Steve, so he's going to fact-check with the Internet before he makes his move.

Problem is, he's not entirely sure how to go about that fact-checking. Phil helpfully directed him to a fact-checking website after a political debate, but Steve's pretty sure they don't care about whether Tony's bisexual or not. After a brief debate, he types in "Tony Stark" "date" and "male sex" into Google, reasoning that he'll at least get _something_ off those, maybe even a photograph of Tony at some society event with a male on his arm. Then he hits enter and eyes the list of results hopefully.

There, a video with a _lot_ of hits on it. He clicks the link, safe in the knowledge that JARVIS won't let him open anything that'll crash Tony's computers, and the screen opens another "window." For a moment it's just black, and then the image wavers up to show a huge bed, strewn with pillows and rumpled sheets, just enough space around the bed to imply a large room. A large mirror at the head reflects an image back of a dark wooden cabinet, and Steve’s eyes narrow slightly as he realizes he can’t pick out the camera, blended as it must be into the carvings and shadows of the cabinet. Two men walk into view, one of them a tall blond dragging a slightly shorter brunet, hands fisted in the open sides of the man's shirt as they kiss. The image is a little grainy, obviously not a professional camera, but it shows how handsome the guy is with wavy blonde hair and a goatee of his own, even if it's not nearly as attractive as Tony's. Steve gapes at it, suddenly aware that this is _not_ the professional news footage of Tony on the red carpet with a male date like he thought when he clicked the thing. This is...this is...

His thoughts derail as the men twist so the brunet's the one backed into the bed. The kiss is brutal, so angry Steve's lips ghost with imagined heat just watching them. The blond shoves Tony down onto the bed as he shoves the shirt down thickly muscled arms and throws it off-camera. The shirt was _all_ Tony had on, because he's naked on that bed, pale skin so beautifully framed against dark sheets that Steve's fingers itch for paper and charcoal even as his mouth goes dry. The only incongruity is the bared chest, somehow unfinished without the arc reactor to his admittedly biased eyes. Tony laughs on the video, his voice thicker than Steve's ever heard him. The blond's already naked, and Tony yanks him down onto the bed and rolls so he's on top, mouthing down to bite sharply at the man's nipples when he tries to shove Tony down further. Steve's breathing quickens as he watches. He shouldn't be watching this. This is Tony having sex with another guy–thank you GOD, he knows the answer to his question now because this is Tony _having sex with another guy_ — and he should not be invading his teammate's privacy like this. He's going to stop, he's going to turn it off–and then the blond jerks and gives a high-pitched shriek the likes of which Steve's usually heard from women. Tony's lips curve into a downright evil smile as the man arches back into his pillow, eyes shut as he mouths curses at the ceiling. Steve wonders if he knows he's being filmed–he knows from documentaries that girls don't always know that their partner's filming, and the twist of Tony's lips as they watched that CBS special worried Steve even then–but then he glances over his shoulder and his smile turns savage as he stares straight into the camera. He knows.

He shouldn't be watching this, but he can't stop, not when this might be the only chance he ever gets to see Tony like this, not when his imagination hasn't done justice to the reality before him. Steve chokes a little as Tony sits up, obviously working the other guy’s cock with his free hand while he reaches behind himself. The angle is perfect, and Steve stops breathing entirely as he gets a damn good look at Tony working himself open, riding back onto his fingers as he twists and pushes until he’s stretched to his satisfaction. Tony's preparing himself, and that's...not what Steve expected, not when Tony's so blatantly controlling everything in this video.

That only turns him on more. His imagination readily supplies details as Tony mounts the other man and slides down, hips twisting in a movement that makes the blond howl again. He imagines himself under Tony, his cock buried deep in soft heat as Tony rides him–but without those cold eyes or that savage twist to his mouth, both of which Steve recognizes and both of which he hates. This should be _enjoyable,_ not Tony so bitterly angry, not Tony motivated to punish the man he's fucking and resigned underneath it all to yet another betrayal. Still, it's Tony and he's everything Steve's dreamed of and more. His body reacts despite his embarrassment at seeing this, cock tenting out the front of his trousers as his heart pounds at the cock appearing and disappearing steadily between Tony's cheeks. He can't see Tony's face or cock with the camera aimed at his back and the mirror angled more to show the person on the bottom, but his imagination fills in the gaps readily, painting a thick cock spreading precome across the firm abdomen and Tony's fine-boned face flushed with pleasure. He drops a hand to his lap, squeezing himself as Ty shrieks and moans, breathy grunts from Tony occasionally filtering through the racket.

Tony rides the man hard and fast, smirk growing as he babbles, then backs off the second the man looks ready to come. He does it over and over again until finally the blond is begging desperately under him, the bed a wrecked mess around them. Steve's cock is rock-hard and his hands are clamped on the edge of the desk so hard he's pretty sure he's either cracked the wood or is about to. The guy begs, voice loud and slurred and utterly desperate–and Tony rises up and slides off, leaving the red, angry cock to flop against the man's stomach as Tony slips off the bed, reaching down to pull on his pants. His hands are steady as he tucks his cock in and then bends to pick up his shirt.

"What the FUCK?!" the blond shrieks.

"So, Ty," Tony drawls, voice dark and smooth, the tone used when he's really furious about something, "tell your avid viewers, how _does_ it feel to be fucked over?"

Steve's entire face feels hot, his skin tight and sensitive. This should NOT be as arousing as it is, it really shouldn't.

The man goes still and a little pale. "Tony..."

"I hope you enjoyed the ride, God knows I didn't," Tony adds blandly. "You've missed a few calls." He nods at a small device vibrating frantically against the smooth wood of the nightstand. "It's really quite simple, try to keep up, I know it's hard. You thought I'd let you fuck me over, both literally and figuratively, while the world watched–literally and figuratively given that camera streaming live right now."

Steve's been hard for ages now, but _this_...he's so close to coming right now, muscles tightening on the verge of orgasm as his balls draw up. This is _Tony_ at his biting, snarky best, gorgeous and disheveled, and Steve can't help envisioning him in a better mood, eyes warm and laughing as he dressed for the day, with Steve himself sprawled on their wrecked bed.

On the computer screen, Tony finishes buttoning his shirt and reaches for a length of pale blue silk. "That right there? That'd be your people, trying to inform you that you've just lost that contract you tried to undercut me on with the schematics you stole from my workshop. That'd be the contract you needed to keep from Chapter 13." He smiles, sweet and vicious. "Also, my legal team is suing you for larceny, corporate espionage, and everything else they've dreamed up." He loops his tie around his neck, and in moments he's once again the suave, immaculate billionaire pictured in the glossies. "Have a good night, Ty."

He saunters off, heels clicking against stone as "Ty"–Steve notes both name and face, with a mental note to deck the guy first chance he gets–lunges for his cell phone, horror spreading across his face as he stares at it. The video cuts out there, leaving Steve panting and desperate in his chair.

"One of my better tapes," Tony drawls from the door. Steve hits the back button on his internet window in a belated attempt to get rid of the damning evidence and spins, horrified and embarrassed, with no idea how to even begin apologize, much less explaining. Tony grins at him, gaze lingering on the tent in the front of his pants and darkening. "Ty still tries to kill me occasionally, of course."

Steve wets dry lips. "Tony–I..." he runs out of words there and stammers for a second. Tony laughs.

"Steve, breathe. You're hardly the first to see that tape–that was my _point._ " He grins, bright and open. "You're not even the first to get turned on by it, I promise. I'm a damn good fuck."

He steps forward and the door shuts behind him, locking with a quiet click that sounds very loud to Steve’s ears. He doesn't look angry or embarrassed; he looks very, very amused and maybe–hopefully–a little turned on himself.

Dark eyes flick to the screen behind Steve, taking in the text in the search bar, and Steve winces a little as he remembers what he typed. Obviously, he should’ve used the term ‘gender’ like they do nowadays rather than ‘sex’ as they did in the 40s, but he knows Tony won’t miss the significance of his search. Tony’s eyes widen as he reads the five words, and then he stares at Steve.

“Clint said you liked guys too,” Steve manages, knowing from the heat in his face that he’s flushed now for an entirely different reason. “I wanted to see if he was telling the truth.”

Tony prowls forward, intent in a way Steve usually only sees from him in battle or his lab. “Oh, he was telling the truth, for once.”

He drops a hand into Steve’s lap and Steve hears a choked groan he only vaguely realizes is his, more focused on the clever fingers teasing along his clothed length. “Seems a shame to waste this,” Tony breathes, and Steve rallies briefly, hands closing over Tony’s hips to hold the older man still. This is almost everything he’s spent months craving, but he’s not going to let Tony think he’s just out for his ass. Tony’s worth so much more than that, even if it’s not Steve he chooses.

“And if I want more than just a fuck from you?” he asks, staring up at the inventor. The smile is slow and sweet, a rare gift from the tightly-guarded man straddling his lap.

“I think we can do that,” Tony promises, all teasing gone for the moment. “I definitely think we can do that.” He squeezes lightly and Steve’s head drops back on a desperate groan. “But we should really fuck first.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, not caring that he probably looks ridiculous with the huge, goofy grin splitting his face because that? That was Tony agreeing to go steady. “Please.”

He’s not entirely clear on what happens next, because Tony’s tongue is busy conquering his mouth. Tony gets his shirt off, and he rips Tony’s grease-smeared wifebeater in two. They fumble their pants off between kisses as they begin working their way towards Steve’s bed. His underwear is left somewhere on the edge of the carpet, and when they trip over Tony’s, he lifts Tony clean off his feet and stumbles the last four steps to the bed, tumbling down on it just as Tony wraps his hand around Steve’s cock. He bites on the muscles cording at the base of the genius’ neck as Tony thumbs the head of his cock, then slicks the moisture down his length. Tony retaliates by sucking and biting his own mark into the blond’s throat, too high for even his favored dress plaids to cover the hickey, laughing against the budding bruise as he’s pinned moments later. The laugh turns into a moan as Steve tears loose to work down Tony’s body, erasing phantom fingers with his lips and tongue, nipping at erect nipples and exploring the mass of scars around the arc reactor for a moment before he moves on, tasting until he reaches Tony’s cock. He’s never done this before—he’s never done anything with a man other than fumbled hand jobs when neither even dared undress—but he’s watched a _lot_ of porn lately courtesy of Clint, and he has a good idea of what he’s doing. He mouths the head first, then pulls back just enough to breathe teasingly over sensitive flesh. He gives it just a second, then dives down, thick flesh filling his mouth as he flattens his tongue against the thick vein throbbing along the bottom of Tony’s cock. That wins him a choked shout, and he flicks his gaze up to take in passion-flushed features and dilated eyes. He sucks briefly, then pulls back to run his tongue curiously over the tip, dipping into the tiny slit to catch a taste. Tony yanks up back up, hand fisted in bright hair, to devour the taste back out of Steve’s mouth, his goatee alternately silky and prickly as it rubs against Steve’s clean-shaven skin.

They fumble for the lube together—he wonders how Tony knows exactly where he keeps his lube and condoms before a slick hand smooths down his length, followed by a rubber, and his mind promptly abandons everything else. Tony’s already working himself open on two fingers, and he has to steal another kiss even as he adds his own finger to the mix, sliding deep into flesh that’s even hotter and tighter than he’d dreamed. Tony tries to urge him in before he thinks his lover is loose enough and he ignores the attempt; he wasn’t a pansy even before the serum bumped everything up a few notches, and he’ll be damned before he hurts Tony. Finally Tony’s ready and he rubs against the entrance for a moment, teasing them both before he pushes in, slow but steady, relying on the way Tony tenses and then relaxes under him to guide him in without hurting his lover. Then he has to stop, eyes damn near crossing at the heat rippling and squeezing teasingly around him, wrenching at even Captain America’s iron control.

Tony’s not inclined to wait; he tightens around Steve, then thrusts up and that does it, shatters what’s left of Steve’s fragile control. He buries himself to the hilt in one thrust, wringing a breathy grunt from Tony and that’s it, he’s gone, thrusting fast and deep, hitting the sweet spot until Tony writhes under him, spitting curses and threats as Steve wraps a hand around his cock, already thinking about how it’ll feel to be the one split open under Tony in the next round. Tony comes first—Steve’s a gentleman, after all—spilling over his hand and across his stomach, and that combined with the spasms around Steve’s cock send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony gasps finally, once the aftershocks have worn off and they’re sprawled across the sheets, Steve shamelessly draped across him. “If I’d known you’d react like that, I’d’ve made sure you found the sex tapes months ago.”


End file.
